


Clover

by tridecaphilia



Series: The Timers Never Fail [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - No Hale Fire, Multi, Soulmate-Identifying Timers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-08
Updated: 2014-03-08
Packaged: 2018-01-15 01:32:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,457
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1286215
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tridecaphilia/pseuds/tridecaphilia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles takes St. Patrick's Day VERY seriously, and he's determined to make sure his soulmates do too.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Clover

**Author's Note:**

> Due to positive feedback and an overabundance of muse, this is now a series. If you want to keep up with it, be sure to track the series, NOT the individual fics, because they're almost definitely all going to be shorts.
> 
> For purposes of this universe, the three met the same day the first fic went up, that is, March 7 2014. This takes place ten days later, on St. Patrick's Day of this year. And yes, if you're wondering, those are cameos by Ethan and Aiden in the Sweet Shop.

Stiles wasn’t much different as a soulmate than he’d been as a best friend. Not that Scott had expected him to. It was just good to know, and good that he knew Stiles. Otherwise he would have been _way_ more concerned by being woken up an hour earlier than usual by someone throwing a T-shirt in his face.

The shirt itself wasn’t enough to wake him up right away, but when he breathed in, the shirt got pulled into his mouth a bit and the sudden taste of cotton was enough to wake him. He sputtered and sat up. “Stiles!” he yelled before he’d even seen the other boy. Only Stiles would pull something like this.

“Dude, get up and put it on,” Stiles said. “We need to go give Derek his present before school. And talk him into giving us donuts.”

Scott stared at Stiles, still bleary-eyed and half-asleep. “Derek? Presents?” He scrubbed at his eyes. “Did my mom let you in?”

Stiles snorted. “Your mom’s working a double, did you forget? I have a key. Now get up and put the shirt on.”

Scott finally looked at the shirt Stiles had thrown at him. It was dark green with a heart monitor line running across it in neon green; the middle heartbeat was a clover.

Finally it clicked. Scott never remembered the minor holidays—he’d made a point of forgetting Valentine’s every year, although that would change next year—but Stiles never missed them.

He looked at Stiles again as he dragged himself out from under the covers. His soulmate was wearing another green shirt, this one lime green and bearing a darker green four-leaf clover over which was written the proud proclamation I SPEAK FLUENT BLARNEY! Scott couldn’t help laughing.

“Did you get one for Derek too?” he asked.

Stiles shook his head, looking mournful. “His apron would cover up whatever work of genius I chose for him.” The mournful expression vanished, replaced by a devilish grin. “I got him something _way_ better. He’s gonna look awesome. Now come on, get dressed! Sweet Shop! St. Patty’s Day! Donuts! Let’s _go!_ ”

Stiles all but skipped out of the room to wait for Scott, most likely in the Jeep so they could leave as soon as possible. Scott stared at the shirt for another bleary moment, then shrugged and put it on along with the first pair of jeans he saw. He brushed his teeth quickly, pulled on socks and shoes, and headed out to join Stiles.

“You have no idea how hard it was to find a good shirt that wouldn’t break dress code,” Stiles informed him once they were in the car. “They were all about balls or drinking or they had swears in Irish on them, or they were for people who actually have Irish heritage, which neither of us do, or they were just clovers and nothing else. These were the best ones I found.”

“Don’t you have a collection by now?” Scott asked.

Stiles rolled his eyes. “Yes, but I’ve worn them all. I’m not going to wear them _again._ I’m saving them so when I have enough I can turn them into something cool. Like a St. Patrick’s Day flag made of T-shirts or something.”

Scott snorted. “You could outfit the whole of Beacon Hills High by now, what do you consider ‘enough’?”

“Enough,” Stiles said again, just to be unhelpful.

They pulled into the Sweet Shop a few minutes later and Stiles bounced out of the driver’s seat. He held a shopping bag in one hand, presumably containing Derek’s present, which he kept away from Scott until they were inside.

Derek had the early shift that day, which meant he was there at the counter. It was surprisingly busy; the line was short, but the tables were full and there was a buzz of conversation that was rare at the Sweet Shop. Abby, the day manager, was there too, as well as the identical twins they’d only met in passing. All four of the employees were busy helping people.

Scott and Stiles hung back and waited for the line to clear. Abby and the twins weren’t clear on the relationship between them and Derek—they’d yet to figure out how to explain to anyone. They were aware that Scott and Stiles came by so often because of Derek, though, so when they reached the front of the line Abby winked at them and went to help the next person.

Derek smiled when he saw them. His smiles were still hesitant, but they were getting bolder day by day as he slowly accepted that they weren’t going to vanish. Stiles had a similar feeling, sometimes, although not as constant as Derek’s. He still hadn’t asked why Derek’s reaction was so strong.

Derek handed the last customer his change and slipped out from behind the counter. “You know, I do have work now,” he said, but he was still smiling.

Stiles raised his eyebrows at him. “Derek. You’re wearing all black again. Do you not know what day it is? Even the twins have those clover pins on their aprons.” Abby, for her part, was wearing a lovely green top in defiance of uniform—not that Stiles thought anyone was complaining.

Derek folded his arms a little defensively. “I don’t worry about that,” he said stiffly.

Stiles grinned. “I guessed that much. That’s why I took it upon myself to worry about it for you.” He reached into the bag and pulled out a headband with glittery foil four-leaf clovers standing up on springs like antennae.

Derek stared at it. His eyebrows were doing their level best to creep into his hairline. “What is that?”

“It’s your green, for St. Patrick’s Day. It’s bad luck not to wear any green. Plus then people pinch you, which is worse luck.”

Derek was still staring, but his mouth twitched. He was definitely edging toward a smile. “By which you mean, you’ll pinch me.”

“Oh totally.” Stiles grinned, unashamed as ever. “Anyway, you need to wear this. I was going to get you a shirt too but your apron would cover it and it would get covered in flour so I went with the headband.”

Derek stared at it a moment longer. “How’s this?” he said eventually, looking between them. “I wear it, and after I get off work we go on a date. Dinner. All three of us.”

Stiles swallowed a small squeak. They’d gone on dates, of course. Sort of. They’d done things that could be romantic or platonic like bowling, and they’d stayed in and done dinner and movies together, because none of them were quite ready to explain to everyone. The idea of a _real_ date, where there were other people around…

“Yeah,” Scott said, fortunately stopping Stiles from running his mouth straight into a tree. “Sounds great.” He plucked the headband from Stiles’ fingers and slid it onto Derek’s head. “There,” he said, grinning. “Perfect.”

Derek smiled. It was brighter than before. Was that it? Stiles wondered. Was he worried that they weren’t serious because they hadn’t gone on a date already?

Regardless, Derek’s smile was infectious, and Stiles found himself grinning back, relaxing from his surprise.

Without another word, Derek slipped back behind the counter and picked up a box from the hold shelf. “I set these aside for you,” he said, clearing his throat a little awkwardly. He handed them the box.

“Dude, _yes,_ ” Stiles said. He opened the box gleefully and his already big grin got even wider.

“Oh _hell_ yes,” he said. The donuts were massive, like all the Sweet Shop’s donuts, as big around as Stiles’ face. Derek had set aside the St. Patrick’s Day special: jelly-filled donuts with the white icing and jelly filling dyed green. And on the top Derek had formed a heart out of the four-leaf clover sprinkles the Sweet Shop used in honor of the holiday.

Scott was beaming too as he took one of the donuts out of the box and took a bite. Stiles did the same, and kissed Derek on the cheek, leaving a smear of icing which Derek wiped off with a good-natured grimace. “Thanks,” he said, mouth still full of donut. “They’re perfect.”

Derek ducked his head—was he blushing under his stubble? That was kind of, okay, _really_ adorable—and cleared his throat. “I get off work at five,” he said. He kissed each of them on the cheek, gentle and quick and innocent. “Meet me in the parking lot.”

Stiles nodded, still grinning as he took another bite of the donut. This was going to be the best St. Patrick’s Day ever. And maybe Scott would even stop forgetting holidays after this.

**Author's Note:**

> For some reason this series gets hate because of the ship, so I will post this warning again: I welcome critique, because I always want to improve my writing. I enjoy thoughtful comments, because they tell me that I provoked thought. I enjoy short "I liked it" comments, because they inspire me to keep writing and tell me which fics people enjoy and would like to see more of. HOWEVER, any hateful comments bashing the ship, or leaving nothing constructive or useful in any way, will be deleted. The ship is clearly labeled. You have no excuse for reading if it's a NoT3 for you and less for leaving a comment if you haven't read the fic at all. I will not let people start a ship war on something I do for fun. If you only ship Sterek, I suggest you go read my works "Lost and Found", "Not-So-Fake IDs", and "His Smile Shines Brighter From A Clean-Shaven Face".


End file.
